Nothing Short Of Invincible
by Comeback Kid
Summary: -Draco-centric. Not DH compatable.- Draco's mind had become a puzzle, especially to himself. An assignment is given to him by the Dark Lord that will either bring Redemption after hsi last failure, or...well, Draco didn't want to think about the "or" part


Hi everyone! So this is my first fic on here, It's also on hpff(dot)net so you can read it there as well. This is mostly a Draco-centric story, not DH compliable, and kind of dark and angsty. No main romances here, just general, obvious ones. Reviews would be great, thanks!

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Nothing Short Of Invincible

**-Part I-  
**_**they're only chasing safety**_

**-Chapter i-  
**_Young & Aspiring_

_Thump, Thump._

It was nerve racking. He felt his head pounding in perfect time with his heartbeat.

_Thump, Thump._

He was completely immersed. But he wasn't numb yet. No, the water wasn't hot enough to scald his flesh. But that wasn't his concern at the moment. What he was more concerned about was that fateful night kept reappearing in his dreams. And all he could think about all day long was the look on Harry Potter's face when he watched his mentor and guardian fall.

It's not that he felt remorse or even sympathy for the scar-headed teen. No, his wounds ran deeper than that. What bothered him more was that he kept thinking about it. It wasn't even his fault. Sure, he had devised the plan, let all the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, and stopped, stared, and done nothing when his godfather raised his wand against the headmaster, muttered _Avada Kedevra, _and let him fall to the ground.

He had let it happen.

_Thump, Thump._

"Draco!"

His stormy blue eyes shot open, and he finally remembered where he was. Submerged under blazing hot water in his bathtub. All of the noise around him was muted, but he finally realized he was nearly drowning himself. His head felt heavy and feverish, and his throat was starting to close, but his body wouldn't move.

He felt a hand grab his bare shoulder and pull him up out of the water, sputtering and choking. He felt warm water drip down his face and his back.

"What on Earth are you doing?" Narcissa exclaimed.

Draco felt his chest heave. He tried saying something back but he couldn't speak and catch his breath at the same time.

"I...I think I fell asleep," Draco said hoarsely, still wheezing and coughing from his little dramatic escapade.

"Don't scare me like that!" His mother exclaimed again. Draco rolled his eyes; she could be such a drama queen sometimes. "I had been calling you for the past ten minutes."

"Uh...sorry..." was the only think Draco could think to say. Anything was better than saying, "I think I was trying to inadvertently commit suicide."

"Well, get out and get dressed," Narcissa said as she turned to walk out of his bathroom. "You're wanted downstairs." She shut the door behind her.

Draco sighed and slid back down into the water, allowing only his head above the surface. _What just happened?_ He thought to himself. _Had I become so immersed in my thoughts that I had forgotten I was underwater? _

He shook that idea from his head. Draco never gave anything too much thought. Perhaps that was his problem. He was too uncaring. But with the situation he was in, being uncaring seemed to be a good thing.

Draco hoisted himself out of the cream-colored marble bathtub and covered himself in the towel that had been hung on the rack by the servants earlier that day. His legs felt weak and he stumbled slightly as he walked out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. He took his time getting dressed and was still wondering why he had almost pulled that little stunt of his.

_Let's face it Draco, you hate it here_, His conscience was telling him.

Draco wouldn't argue.

Ever since the attack on Hogwarts had happened, Voldemort had officially declared Malfoy Manor his new headquarters. Of course, Lucius didn't deny his "request" at all, for he was a loyal, high-ranking Death Eater.

Draco snorted at the thought. His father wanted him to be just the same. Just as arrogant, just as cold, just as lifeless. A puppet of the Dark Lord.

Draco made his way into the grand corridor of the manor he once called home. The green and burgundy carpeting and all the portraits of his ancestors were the same. Everything was in the same place; it's own place, it's rightful place. Except him.

The once elegant dining room, with a large crystal chandelier (Draco recalled that his father said it had been hanging in that same spot for over a century), and a long oak table, now served it's purpose to the Dark Lord as his meeting room where his high ranked Death Eaters would converge with him. Draco was asked to be at these "meetings," and he hated it.

Voldemort hadn't appeared yet, because his seat at the head of the table was still empty, and most of the current Death Eaters at the table were talking amongst themselves. Draco lowered himself into the seat next to his father, who was busy sniping with his despicable Aunt Bellatrix.

Draco inwardly gagged as she turned to face him, golden eyes ablaze with insanity, as usual.

"Ah Draco darling, nice of you to finally join us," she hissed. Her wild black locks were sticking out in different directions on top of her head; she looked like she had been struck by lightning.

_Heh, I wish. _Draco though.

"What happened?" Lucius spat in his son's ear.

Draco flinched. "Nothing," he muttered. When his father remained silent, he knew that Lucius wouldn't be buying the "nothing" act tonight. "I fell asleep in the bathtub," he said quickly.

"You're lucky the Dark Lord isn't here yet," Lucius said.

Draco simply nodded. He wasn't in the mood for stupid games and neither was his father.

"Now Lucius, let the boy be," a throaty voice hissed. Draco flinched, as he only knew that could be one person.

Lucius bowed his head. "My apologies, my Lord."

Voldemort reached his hand out to Draco and caressed the side of his face. Draco refrained from making any sudden movements, for he knew it could be fatal.

"He's a young and aspiring boy," Voldemort hissed. He lowered his face closer to Draco's. He could feel his hot, putrid breath on the bridge of his nose. "He will be destined for great things."

It was now that Draco realized how silent the room had become, and how everyone's eyes were on them. Draco glanced across the table to Severus Snape, widening his eyes in a silent plea for help. Severus shook his head, signaling there was nothing he could do at the moment to help his godson.

"Now then," Voldemort began, gliding to his chair at the head of the large table. "We have some important business to discuss."

"That awkward puss of a boy," Bellatrix spat. "Harry Potter."

Draco rolled his eyes. _Of course..._

Even while they were technically plotting to destroy him, Draco was still just so sick of hearing about _Harry Potter_. Absolutely sick of it. He wasn't jealous. At least, he wouldn't admit to himself that he was jealous. Harry Potter was, in Draco's opinion, an attention-craving teenager in need of serious anger management consulting. That's all. Nothing more.

Not the chosen captain...or...the boy who scored...or...whatever the hell they were calling him nowadays.

He was just a kid.

Just like Draco.

With high expectations from the world.

"Young Malfoy," Voldemort hissed. Draco felt nailed to his chair under the Dark Lord's glare. It was a sickening feeling. "As we are all aware here, you have failed your task in killing Headmaster Dumbledore, and Snape had to complete the task for you."

Draco had always been wondering why he hadn't been punished yet, even though that event had only been a week ago. Was he gonna get it now?

"Instead of..._punishing_ you, like we should," Voldemort continued. "I'm going to assign you another task. One that _only you_ can perform." He added the latter statement due to the shifty looks on the other Death Eaters around. Lucius was the only one looking prominent. Even Snape looked rather wary.

Draco, on the other hand, felt ill. He palms felt itchy and clammy and beads of sweat were forming on his upper lip. What the _bloody hell_ could they _possibly_ want from him now? Might as well just tell him to commit suicide already and be done with it. Any task givin to him in place of a punishment couldn't be good or easy.

"Your job is quite simple, actually," Voldemort said, pressing his hand down discreetly on Peter Petigrew's shoulder, who had suddenly appeared beside him.

_Had he been there the whole time?_ Draco wondered, but decided not to press on it. It's one less thing his mind needed to worry about right now.

"You are to infiltrate the Order of the Phoenix headquarters as a spy for us. We'll dump you on their doorstep a bloody battered mess; they'll simply think we abandoned you because you couldn't complete the _first task_ you were given."

His words felt like weights on Draco's head. He held his breath and counted to five. It was the only way he could think of calming himself down other than getting up, dashing to his room, and screaming bloody murder into his pillow. Which was, of course, _not_ an option. Not here, not now.

"The final part of this," Voldemort continued.

_Oh great, there's more..._

"When you have gained said 'trust' of the Order, you are to kill Harry Potter," he concluded.

The room was silent. Draco looked at Snape, then his father, then the Dark Lord. He was afraid everyone could hear how heavy he was breathing, or how hard his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

After what seemed like an eternity of utter silence, Draco swallowed the last of his humanity and spoke, "I'll...I'll do it."

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Thanks for reading everyone. Reviews would be stellar :D

**-Comeback Kid**


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